


What if I Was Willing

by Jesstabulous



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesstabulous/pseuds/Jesstabulous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to settle for what is readily available to you, and sometimes that turns out to be better than what you were yerning for in the first place. AU smut piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What if I Was Willing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Game](https://archiveofourown.org/works/300851) by [wintercealde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercealde/pseuds/wintercealde). 



_Disclaimer: I don't own anything Robin Hood BBC related, otherwise some very attractive men would be in my bed with me, and I wouldn't be writing fic about it._

_Warnings:_ _**Explicit Rated for a reason.** __AU. M/M Slash. …..also, this piece is lemons, limes, oranges, smut, pwp – you get the idea. Unbeta'd work, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone._

_A/N: Fun little facts: This fic was titled after the Nashville TV song Chris Carmack (Will Lexington) -What If I Was Willing. However, it was written while listening to Woodkid – Run Boy Run. This fic was inspired by Wintercealde's – The Game, which was my first introduction to a Guy/Allan pairing as a possibility and spurred this little muse bunny into existence, if you have not read it please do so._

_Not ganna lie, I might have totally changed my OTP from Guy/Marian to Allan/Guy…and I am not too sure I am upset about that._

* * *

The end table smashed against the wall with a thundering crash, splinters of broken craftsman wood falling haphazardly to the cobblestone floor – the trinkets that had been set atop shattered amongst the wreckage of his anger and frustration.

Guy ran his hand through his hair, messing up the dark locks causing some stray strands to fall over his eyes which held a dangerous gleam. His blood was boiling under his skin and his leather trousers felt too tight against his flesh. He was raging into oblivion and it was all over that damned slip of a girl Marian. The little wench that had weaseled her way into his forsaken heart. The love of his bloody life – more like his impending death.

Never had he met a woman so irritating and infuriating. She could strike a chord so deep in him with just a fumble of her fingers or with a curious glance from under her lashes, yet any move made by him no matter how reserved was rebuffed swiftly, constantly. His need for her was stifling and yet she seemed to laugh in his face and affections at every turn. It was absolutely maddening.

Practically growling with his anger, he hurled a silver pitcher of wine across the room with the force of all his strength, the metal protesting at the contact as the red liquid spilled out along the floor, filling the cracks of the stone. He briefly wondered why he didn't just take her by force, with as often she had denied and made him a fool it would surly serve her right – but then that pesky feeling of love and admiration filled the darkness in his heart and he could never convince himself to force his body upon hers.

She was so god damn frustrating!

A thorn in his side he wasn't even sure he wanted pulled out.

Even nowhere near him, in the midst of the solitude of the night, she could rile his worst side into a feverish tempter, his anger flashing in an instant as if ignited by black powder. He couldn't seem to get any rest even in his fitful dreams, if it wasn't a nightmare it was a torturous fantasy of her supple body mewling and responding underneath his own as he brought them both to wordless heights of ecstasy.

That was how he had awoken tonight, tangled in the linens and his body laden with sweat from ghosting memories of a mocking falsehood. He had also awoken with an aching arousal weeping against the course hairs of his thigh, making it uncomfortably sticky. Try as he might, his touch didn't seem to be enough to sate his burning desires, his heart racing with every swift and urgent attempt to bring his body to completion so he could return to fruitless efforts of restless sleep and pray she didn't infiltrate his deepest desires for at least the rest of the night.

It was emasculating and wounding to his pride that despite his expert and knowledgeable touch of his own body, he couldn't urge his own fulfillment.

That very dilemma is what had him tearing apart his quarters, his anger seething from every pore in his taut body, taking out his many compounding and convoluted frustrations on the invaluable things surrounding him. At least they could feel the brunt of his wrath for now, until he could calm his senses and purge his mind of the Lady Marian, who haunted him so relentlessly.

A tentative knock on the door sounded out around him resonating off the stone walls, and the devastated state of his room was momentarily forgotten as he barked out agitatedly "Leave me be!" his voice full of authority and promises of the worst kinds of torture if it was dared disobeyed.

For a few moments he was graced with silence, and the false hope of whoever had been knocking at his door at such a late hour had been smart enough to see sense that he was of no mood. Yet after a few brief moments that didn't last nearly long enough the infuriating knock was back again, even lighter and more tentative than before, but still present and refusing to go away and leave a man to his fitful woes.

"What!?" he bellowed.

The door pushed open cautiously with a whine of protest from the iron hinges that grated on his nerves and forced him to clench his teeth, the hinges protested as if the subject on the other side was very aware of the danger he was pressing into. Slowly the form of a person moved out from behind the heavy oak, and his vengeful gaze fell upon the sandy brown hair and fearful blue eyes of his servant Allan A Dale. Allan greeted him with an imperceptible nod as he peered out from behind the door – as if knowing a projectile was about to head his way if he stepped fully into his master's room.

At the sight of him Guy groaned and rolled his eyes beneath closed lids, leaning his head back as if to will the world to give it a rest for one night. Was the torment of his fantasies not enough suffrage to bear, and his lack of satisfaction to pour salt on an open wound, now he had to be pained by the insolence of his purchased subservient as well?

"I – Not to be funny Giz," he paused, swallowing hard as his fingers clenched at the door like some sort of safety net "But it looks like you've been in a scuffle….?" He asked sheepishly, fearing the wrath of the man before him for the interruption – in truth some of the guards posted at Gisborne's door had come to get him, both concerned and yet too fearful themselves to check on the Master at Arms. Without the command of `Guards!` yelled from the other side of the door, they had no desire to rush in for fear of retaliation, so they left it to his devices.

He completely ignored Allan's horribly disguised question about the dire state of the room, which was thoroughly trashed. "What. Do. You. _Want!?"_ Guy snarled through clenched teeth, glaring down at the man, his fists balled up and clenched with the force of his many grievances.

"Oi!, I was only checking on you, is all." Allan responded defensively, feeling his chest puff up momentarily with false bravado. "Seeing as you look _just fine_ my lord," he drawled out, "I'll leave you to it then." He finished, moving to close the door and leave from whence he came, a few mutterings of annoyance ready to pass his lips once out of earshot.

"Wait!" Guy's voice commanded, and the door stilled. "Allan, find me a wench." He ordered, leaning against one of the columns of his four poster bed, crossing his arms over his bare chest. At least his serving boy could be of some use, and perhaps he could work out some of his…frustrations, after all.

Allan peaked back out from behind the door, a sympathetic look on his face as he stared back at his master. Pushing the door open fully he emerged from behind it, feeling bad for the man that looked to be on pins and needles, ready to burst at any moment with whatever tensions ailed his body. As a man himself he could understand those moments, when the need was just too much to quench on your own. "All the maids and servants have gone home for the evening already, not a single lass left in the castle at this time – it would take me a bit to fetch one from the town." He supplied, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets and leaning against the entrance wall with an apologetic smile.

The flash of fury that ignited in Guy's eyes was enough to make him flinch and want to cower, perhaps he should have just said `sure, no problem` and gone to town without the admittance – always putting his foot in his mouth.

"I'll go summon one to you from the town," he said lightly, trying to tread easily on already unsteady ground, turning to leave again.

"Come here." Guy nearly growled at him, his voice dark and filled with malevolence. Allan started at the command, confusion furrowing his brow, but he did as he was told and turned back into the room, taking a few tentative steps forward, sure that in light of sex the man was going to flog him to rid his frustrations. "Shut the door you idiot!" he snapped, finally smirking at the way Allan jumped at the harshness of his words but only momentarily paused before hastily following the order, locking the bar down with a heavy thud that resounded through the room.

"Now come here," Guy ordered again, his tone still holding that dangerous undertone that demanded Allan comply or face severe consequences of the harshest nature. For some reason the look in Guy's eyes unsettled him, and his heart started to pound quicker under his chest with his inexplicable anxiousness. When he stood fully in front of his master, he had the right sense for once to keep his eyes downcast, noticing how the leather of Guy's pants rested bunched atop his bare feet, and sagged loosely around his hips. They were obviously pulled on in haste and with no regard to good form.

He could feel Guy's eyes burning into him, and he closed his own in anticipation of the hit he was sure to come from his sire's hands. It never did though; instead the silence drawled on awkwardly as Allan shifted his weight from foot to foot, a tingling sensation prickling at the nape of his neck as his instincts tried to warn him of something he couldn't quite comprehend.

Finally, after what seemed like lifetimes, Guy moved and sat down on the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight, and Allan felt like he could breathe again.

"Kneel." Guy ordered, his voice laced with finality and a confidence that made Allan swallow hard, his throat going dry. He did as he was told, kneeling down before Guy, his heart beat thundering in his ears in sickening anticipation of a possible whipping. It was after all a common position for those being whipped to take. "Between my legs." Guy corrected, gritting the words out with irritation, and Allan's head shot up, his wide eyes catching the intense gaze of the man before him, his heart caught in his throat, watching as his master spread his leather clad legs wider to make his point. "Now!" Guy hissed, spurring Allan into action as he shuffled forward and moved between his lords spread legs, kneeling before him, looking up at the man with confusion and fear.

"M-my lord?" he asked barely above a whisper, an uncomfortable heaviness forming in the pit of his stomach, his breaths coming short. This wasn't good at all.

"Must I walk you through every bane task," Guy growled, feeling annoyed, leaning forward so that his breath was hot on Allan's ear "I demand you pleasure me, boy." He whispered, slow and clear as if he worried the point would be lost on dumb ears. When he pulled away he could see the shock ridden face of the sandy haired man kneeling before him and Guy couldn't help the devilish smirk that took purchase on his lips.

"Sire?" Allan whispered thickly, feeling suddenly numb. He lowered his gaze from the intense stormy grey of his masters looking down on him, that bloody triumphant smirk mocking him and his position. Instead he focused on the bare chest before him, too timid to want to look any lower. He had never fancied a man before, thus never laid a hand on any cock but his own. What his master was demanding of him now, it was beyond him.

"Perhaps the threat of a fortnight in the dungeons will motivate you?" Guy threatened, taking a handful of Allan's hair into his hand and forcing his face closer to the apex of his own thighs, the bulge straining against the leather clearly present. Allan was sure his heart would still in his chest at any moment and he would keel over cold as a winter's morning.

"I-I've never…." Allan trailed off, knowing whatever protest on the tip of his tongue was useless; his hands working of their own accord, with the threat in mind, going to the already loose laces of the leather britches, nimbly working them open further. The light hiss that passed Guy's mouth at the slight grazing touches of the other man's hands through the material of the leather as he worked the laces loose surprised Allan, and sent an unanticipated shiver down his spine.

At the feel of Guy lifting his hips off the bed, Allan swallowed audibly, closing his eyes briefly and sending a silent prayer up to whatever God would listen that he could get through this, before easing the leather down the muscled thighs of his master. He focused his hands on removing them all the way, buying himself precious seconds of time, slipping the hem out from under each heel before setting the fabric aside.

"Get on with it, Allan!" Guy growled, feeling the need pulsate through him along with his impatience. He hadn't taken a man to his bed before, but with all the frustrations and anguish he had been experiencing lately he needed to take it out on someone, and who better than a servant who couldn't bear him a troublesome bastard child. Who better than _his_ servant.

When the thought had first flickered through his head, Guy thought himself insane – finally snapping under the weight of his agonized life. When he had appraised Allan though, looking over his form critically for a few moments, enjoying the nervousness in the other man, he realized that perhaps he could enjoy this if given the proper chance. It wasn't unheard of for lords of his stature to make good use all their servants, male or female. Besides, he had no desire for this interaction to go beyond these four walls; otherwise his sword would run through flesh in the near future.

Allan tentatively placed his hands on the thick muscular thighs of his master, feeling the way they flexed under his unsure quivering touch. It was bollocks that he was trembling like a virgin girl, but never in his ungodly life of crime, had he ever taken a man in his mouth or to his bed – and god's help him was he nervous!

Trying to steel his nerves, Allan settled himself more comfortably between Guy's legs, feeling his own body heat up under his clothes with his embarrassment and humiliation, sweat beading up under the collar of his green tunic. Slowly he forced one hand further up his master's thigh, feeling the soft hair underneath his palm as he edged ever closer to the prominent erect arousal of his master's cock set before him.

Allan flinched at first at the sound of Guy's more pronounced hiss of pleasure when he had finally encircled the swollen flesh in one palm, feeling the velvety smooth skin underneath his peasants calloused worked hands. His touch was tentative at first, slowly and begrudgingly turning curious as he moved his hand over the pulsing member. He watched his hand moved along the impressive length, feeling absurdly self-conscious about his own below the belt endowment.

He stroked up and down slowly with one hand and a light grasp, testing the motion that he was so accustomed to working on his own body. Daring to glance up, Allan saw that Guy had his head thrown back and his eyes closed, his mouth slightly parted, propping himself up with his hands behind his back on the bed that were flexing against the pelts they rested on. There was something about the impassioned nature of his masters posture that interested unfamiliar emotions in him that he wasn't sure how to respond to.

Experimentally he brushed the pad of his thumb over the engorged head, the slickness of the pre-cum coating his finger. The earthy guttural moan that filled the room and reverberated through him, stirred something inside of him – emboldened by the sound and the encroaching thrill of the new venture; Allan leaned forward and licked the tip following after the same path his thumb had taken. Allan was rewarded with a breathy hitched groan and the slight buck of hips pressing the blunt end against his lips, begging entrance.

Perhaps there was some power to be wielded against his master after all.

Slowly he pumped his hand back and forth over the smooth skin with more confidence, feeling the thick under side vein as it pulsed with the quickened pace of his masters heartbeat. He tightened his grip and secretly smiled at the way Guy seemed to jerk and respond to the added pressure. Perhaps this wasn't as bad as he had feared earlier, who was he to begrudge how bodily pleasure was achieved, as long as he got his own did it truly matter whom it came from. He was sure the more he thought of it, if he had ever been propositioned this kind of act before, for the right amount of coin, he would probably accept like all the other tavern whores after momentary hesitation.

There really was no difference between earning coin for the sole act of prostitution, and being paid by his master and serving his more intimate requests. Really, he could chalk this up to being what it was – he was being paid to bestow pleasure. There were worse ways to earn a few silvers.

Now he found himself mildly curious, taking his hand back and feeling a slight thrill at the way Guy groaned at the loss of the touch – of his touch. It was empowering really. Spitting into his palm for lubrication he returned to his earlier ministrations, moving his hand slowly up the shaft, encircling the head, using the slickness to quicken his pace but keeping it teasing – the way he liked it when he touched himself at night.

A shudder of surprise ran down his spine when he felt the heavy weight of a hand squeezing his shoulder taking him off guard, he wasn't sure if he liked the physical touch but it urged him on, along with the pleasured sounds of his master he elicited from him as he worked him with nimble fingers. In for a penny in for a pound.

"Allan." The way Guy gruffly said his name sent a different kind of shiver down his spine, one that pooled in the deepest recess of his loins, and he could feel his body reacting to the sound much in the same way as if a women in the throes of passion at his hands had said it. It was demanding, still held every inch the threat Guy had promised if he didn't successfully please him, but there was a certain strain to it that only a man in his position could understand.

Answering his command, Allan moved his lips over the weeping head, feeling the salty taste of the dripping liquid on his tongue, and finding he didn't exactly hate it. He moved his mouth further down the length, trying to keep in mind what he liked a woman to do to him and trying it on his master to the best of his virgin abilities. Apparently he was doing it right, because he could feel Guy bucking up into his mouth, eliciting a deep moan that rumbled through his body as his hand fisted into the short brown strands, pushing him down further on his hard flesh.

He relented to the silent request as much as he could, reminding himself to relax his throat and to breathe much in the same way he coached inexperienced woman, as he sucked down as much of the length as he could, his hand making up for the rest he couldn't take in when he started to gag at the feeling of the blunt head brushing the back of his throat. When he repeated the motion a bit faster, the grip on his hair tightened almost painfully and he could feel the way Guy's body tensed under his attentions. Allan had a feeling this was new to both of them, not that he would dare say that out loud, but he could feel the thrill of this new experience catching up with him, and his efforts became genuine as he worked his hand to follow the to and fro of the rhythmic motions of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the top and twisting his hand along the length in the same way he knew he himself enjoyed.

The hand on his shoulder tightened painfully into a vice grip, sending little sparks of pain shooting down his arm with each up and down motion of his torso, but he didn't dare stop now. He could feel the man getting closer to his release, he could feel the way the skin twitched under his touched and he could hear how his master's breath had turned ragged and shallow – when he worked up the nerve to move his other hand to cup and roll the pliable scrotum underneath the impressive arousal he felt his head pulled back harshly by the hand in his hair.

"Get up." Came the raspy order, and he could see how every muscle was strained and pulled taut under the skin. Allan felt the fear seep back into his mind as he did was he was told, pushing himself up with a grunt of pain, finally feeling sympathetic to the woman's complaints of the same manner. "Undress." The next grunted order commanded. Allan paled at the dictation, not having expected this dalliance to go farther than him sucking the man off and being tossed out with threats if he were to unseal his lips about their tryst.

Allan licked his lips the dark haired man's taste still flavoring them, feeling the layer of sweat and the kink in his back he had worked up. "I-I don't know if I am comfortable…" he trailed off, silencing himself when Guy rose to his full height from the bed, his form towering over his own and rightfully intimidating, especially with his flushed and saliva glistened arousal still very much called to attention against the flat of his muscled stomach.

"Your comfort means little to me," Guy snapped, but his voice was husky and pained.

Allan was about to protest, before Guy forced him flush against his chest by a painful grip on his biceps – all protest proving irrevocably lost when his master claimed his lips in a demanding and harsh kiss that threw Allan completely off kilter. It was so unexpected that at first Allan didn't even respond, feeling shell shocked yet again as his master loosened his grip and moved his hands to encircle his torso, pressing one palm firmly between his shoulder blades and forcing him to lean closer into his own chest. Soon Allan found himself responding to the insistent onslaught, the feel of Guy's tongue darting out to trace the seam of his lips with deliberate persuasion, eventually awakening a response from him until finally he was returning the fevered kiss eagerly, earning him an approving grunt from Guy as he opened his mouth and deepened their kiss, claiming the younger man's mouth for his own.

Allan could honestly say he had never _ever_ been kissed like this before, he wasn't even sure he had kissed a woman with this much passion, need, and desire. There was so much emotion in the way Guy kissed him, so much raw power that it was actually starting to stir him and he could feel his body reacting again in kind as he experimentally placed his hands on his master's bare hips, feeling the taut well-formed muscle and bone beneath his touch. Allan wasn't sure if it was possible to get drunk and dizzy off something as simple as a kiss – but he was starting to think it was.

Rewarded for his touch, Guy spun them around, pressing Allan up against one of the bed posts, the carved wood digging into his still clothed back as his master pressed into him forcing one leg between his own and grinding his length against the rough cotton fabric encircling his thigh. Guttural sounds of appreciation slipped through their kiss as he moved one hand back up into the younger man's hair, holding his mouth in place, victim to his demands as he kissed him ever harder and deeper. This wasn't the kiss of a lover, but the kiss of a starved desperate man looking for any salvation in which to forget himself.

When they finally parted, both men were panting heavily. Guy rested his forehead against Allan's and breathed in his musk deeply, the scent of stables and spices assaulting his senses, it was so different than Marian's rose basked scent, so masculine, and Guy found it stirred him, his body reacting to the familiar smell. Again the unprovoked action came as both unsettling but thrilling for Allan.

Guy moved one hand between them, cupping Allan's hardness through his cotton britches, the younger man tensing and his breath hitching in pleasurable response. Guy could tell he felt unsure of his reactions to his touch, but he didn't deny him or pull away, not that he had given him much choice in the matter. Guy rubbed his palm against the hardness, smirking at the way Allan's breath turned shallow and small moans passed his lips, his hands still present on his hips flexing against his skin and signaling his pleasures at the touch.

Guy hadn't planned on anything further, on anything more than a quick one off by his bought servant, but now that the fire had been lit within him he wanted more. _Needed_ more. He never imagined reacting so deeply to a man, but this was raw instinctual carnal desire – the kind that would burn a man alive from the inside out if it wasn't satisfied. Guy had had enough of being unsatisfied for a lifetime. He moved his hand up and started tugging at the green cotton tunic, "Undress for me, Allan?" he breathed, his voice thick and husky with desire as he started kissing his way down the other man's jaw and neck, his words as close to begging as the servant could ever hope for.

He pulled away only briefly to watch as Allan complied and pulled the tunic up over his head in haste, discarding the material haphazardly as he toed off his boots – Guy could finally see the same mirrored desire in those deep blue eyes as he was sure was in his own. He swelled with the thought of having won the man over, of winning – it was a sweet triumph at seeing him just as worked up as he, even his own forceful command couldn't force that reaction from anyone. He watched in appreciation and anticipation, still desperately close to the younger man, as he worked the laces of his pants quickly and shoved them down his lean legs without ceremony; his own arousal springing free from the tight confines it had been trapped in, kicking the material off and away from his body.

Allan this time reached out boldly, running his hands up along his master's shaved chest, pulling the older man down to him and initiating a sloppy open mouthed heated kiss, his previous pauses silenced for now as his own passions burned just under his skin, his body itching for release. Guy grunted his approval at the action and wrapped his strong arms around the man's lean body. They were so different in form; Guy was tall and strong, muscled and broad. Allan was lean and well-toned, he was shorter but agile.

They rubbed and ground their naked bodies greedily against each other, both searching for much needed friction, gasping into the kiss when their arousals touched and moved against each other's. Allan was every bit the submissive servant, but he surprised Guy when he nipped at his lower lip, tugging at the soft flesh with his teeth and then sucking it in insincere apology. Guy responded by snaking one hand between them and grabbing hold of Allan's length, pumping him mercilessly hard a few times in tease, delighting in the way Allan quivered at the rough contact and clutched at his body as a loud guttural moan raced out his mouth unchallenged, before finally pulling his hand away to grip at the lean boney hip. He delighted in the way Allan arched against the wooden post, groaning with displeasure at the lost contact, visibly aching for his touch to return where it was most desired.

Giving him no time to retaliate Guy was trailing his lips back down along the column of the man's throat, nipping and suckling at the fevered sweat laden skin, moaning his pleasure when he felt Allan's hands on his backside forcing his pelvis forward into his own body, smashing their bodies closer together.

Having enough of this torture play, Guy hastily pulled back and shoved Allan onto the bed, crawling up on top of him, greedily licking and kissing his way up the toned body below him. Allan was a sight to behold, not that he would ever tell him that, but the man under him was truly handsome in every way and he could admire the way his lean masculine form flexed and moved, his arousal resting taut against the underside of his stomach. Guy never imagined he would be so moved by a naked man, never imagined he would feel such a powerful pull to the touch of a man. It was both exciting and maddening.

He kissed Allan hard, as if to punish him for making him feel these sensations, their breaths mingling in quick pants as Allan ran his hands up along Guy's back, feeling the strong muscles quiver underneath his touch, gripping Guy to him as he returned the kiss – feeling the same desire and frustration at having been so enraptured by the touch and kiss of another man.

"Turn over." Guy rasped huskily into Allan's ear, pulling at the lobe with his teeth, feeling gratification at the way the younger man tensed and shivered underneath his domineering form. They both knew what was coming next, and while one was excited and desperate, the other was weary and fearful, and both were curiously damned.

Allan did as he was told, shifting under Guy's weight until he was perched on all fours, his forehead resting against the soft pelts, displaying his rear high in the air much to Guy's pleasure. Allan let out a little yelp when his master smacked him hard on the backside, a red mark glaring enticingly on his pale skin. The wisp of trepidation licked at Allan's senses, and he could feel his body trembling again with the anticipation of the intrusion he was sure to come – he had heard rumors it was more painful than a virgin on her marriage bed, and he couldn't imagine Guy being a gentle lover.

"Sire," he dared slowly at the feeling of Guy palming his ass cheeks, the fear creeping into his voice no matter how hard he tried to keep it at bay, his tone sounding almost pleading with the wanton mixture of his strangled words.

Guy paused momentarily at the curious tone from the man prone beneath him for his taking; he caught the hint of fear but also the strong thickness of arousal. The younger man didn't need to speak his fear aloud for him to understand exactly what had set his servant on edge. Contrary to what the sandy haired man may believe of him, he was not a completely ruthless, carless lover. Perhaps a ruthless careless man, but not as a lover. He was forceful and demanding as a lover, hard to please, but he wasn't intentionally cruel between the linens – not when he invited them to his bed. Sure he could and would delight in one's temporary uneasiness and discomfort, he was used to many a woman cowering at first under his intimidating stoic form, but he wrought more pleasure when they cried out his name in the heat of passion then he did when they cried in pain.

"Relax Allan," he soothed, smoothing his hand up and down the length of Allan's spine, delighting in the small quivers of the muscles at his light touch. "or you'll only make it worse." He whispered softly, leaning forward and kissing the base of his back, the gesture surprisingly comforting to both men. Guy had heard of the pain this could cause a man, but he was sure it could be treated the same as that of a virgin's flower, with enough urging and a practiced touch one could get coaxed through it until it gave way to pleasure – it couldn't be that much different.

Guy sucked one of his fingers into his mouth, lathering it up with ample amounts of his saliva, before pressing the pad of the digit against the tight puckered entrance. Guy took great care, so much so that it shocked Allan for the umpteenth time that night as he slowly worked the appendage into the tight cavity, pushing and pulling and coaxing the muscles into adapting to the foreign intrusion. It was uncomfortable but it wasn't painful, Allan thought wistfully, sucking in a breath that caught in his throat when his master twisted his finger up and curled it into the sensitive prostrate, sending shockwaves of pleasure ripping through his body. Guy chuckled at the unexpected reaction, doing it again and again, watching as Allan squirmed, his breath hitching, delighting in the way the man pressed greedily back against his hand in a silent plea for more.

The way the younger man moaned with need and so wonton when he added a second finger, pressing in deeply and pulling out slowly, had him feeling the burning pull of his own desire deep in his loin again –but he took his time, adding a third finger and stretching the unwilling flesh, prepping him as best he could for a much larger and surly more painful intrusion when he thrust into him the first time. Guy's muscles clenched in anticipation at the thought of burying himself to the hilt in the man's tight warmth.

When he felt the man under him, in all his sweat sheened panting lithe naked glory, was ready he pulled his hand away, smirking at the desperate whimpering sound Allan made at the loss of the apparently pleasurable contact. Guy spread his cheeks wide with his hands and lined himself up with the rosy puckered hole, delighting at the way the muscles seemed to pull him in and push him out at the same time as he slowly pushed his achingly swollen head past the tight ring of muscles.

He heard Allan's groan of pain, and felt him stiffen beneath him. "Go slow my lord, _please_." The younger man begged, his fists clenching the pelt beneath him violently, like it was a lifeline. His head had lulled to the side and Guy could see he was biting his lower lip and his eyes were clenched tightly closed.

"Breathe," Guy soothed, his deep voice though thick with desire was calming and encouraging, void of all his earlier frustration and threats. "Breathe and relax, my boy." he whispered reassuringly as he pulled back out giving Allan a moment rest before he pushed back in, stopping when his head slipped inside again, groaning at the tightness of the muscles clenching around him, enticing him to push in further into the welcoming heat.

Allan tried to remember to do as he was told, taking in deep breaths through the stabbing pain to try and quell the sensation. He tried in vain to forcibly relax his clenched muscles to allow easier penetration, but it was so hard when every fiber of his being balked at the agony, and he was thoroughly shocked to the core at how considerate Guy was being towards him.

Guy pushed in slowly, the strain of the effort of his control showing through every fiber of his taut muscles, every inch of his being calling for him to bury himself deep inside the waiting warm flesh below him. Wanting to ease both their pain more swiftly, Guy leaned over Allan's form, half way into his desirable warmth, kissing and nipping at his quivering back, gliding his hands over the slick skin. "Relax," Guy urged again into his ear, bringing one arm around his lean waist and wrapping his hand around his aroused length, delighting in the groan of pleasure as the pain was momentarily forgotten.

When he felt the muscles give way momentarily against his thighs, Guy thrust in all the way in one strong motion and stilled his body to allow the younger man to adjust to his considerable size. Allan let out a small cry of pain as his entire body tensed, but Guy leaned over his form, peppering kissing along his shoulder blades and whispering soft encouragements of how good Allan felt, how tight he was, how incredibly turned on he was. How pleased he was that he was the first man he had ever the incredible pleasure of bedding. Not once did he stop the motion of his hand, stroking up and down the length of Allan's swollen cock, forcing pleasure to strangle its way into Allan's pain filled deep breaths.

When he felt the younger man start to relax, and his moans turn to nothing but pleasure he pulled back and thrust forward again experimentally. This time he was met with hitched breath, Allan's hand reaching back to grip tightly at Guy's thigh, but instead of pushing him away he was pulling him closer. "Oi, do that again." He breathed, the pleasure finally taking place of the pain and washing over his body.

"As you wish," Guy replied huskily, an amused smirk perched on his lips as he removed his hand from Allan's arousal and sat up to grip both his hips tightly, pulling back and slamming home – much to his own delight as well as Allan's who let out a guttural grunt of pleasure as his face was pushed into the pelts with the motion.

Guy rode him hard after that, the sounds of their bodies slapping together music to their ears. Soon his breath was coming in rapid deep swells with his exertion and pace, a grunt or moan of approval leaving his lips with each powerful thrust, his heart pumping the boiled blood rapidly through is veins. Allan was moaning like a lost soul beneath him, lost in his pleasures, pushing back against Guy and meeting his every thrust much to his satisfaction. With each desperate thrust, he could feel himself coming closer, that taut string wound deep in his abdomen pulling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap under the intense scorching pressure.

In the heat of the moment, Guy reached forward and hauled Allan upright by his shoulder with the strength of his arms, bringing the younger man's back flush with his chest, their bodies slipping together as sweat trailed down the already slickened skins. Allan's hands reached back and grasped Guy's hips to steady himself and keep from falling forward as Guy still thrust hard and deeply into him. Guy rested his forehead into the crook of Allan's shoulder, his ragged breath puffing against his fevered skin; it didn't take much for Allan to tell that Guy was close to his completion.

Guy reached both hands around Allan's torso, one palm pressing against his sternum and holding Allan to him, and the other slipping down the soaked skin until he encircled his aching cock in a unforgiving grip. Allan gasped at the added sensation, a shiver of pleasure felt by both running down his spine. Guy pumped him fast and hard, ruthlessly working the engorged flesh, urging Allan to come with him, to reach that euphoria together.

Both men were panting heavily now, Allan having turned his head, seeking out his master's lips which accepted his offer greedily as they worked hastily and desperately towards their mutual satisfactions.

Allan tore his lips away and cried out Guy's name, his fingers digging tightly into Guy's flesh, when he felt the pressure in him snap into a euphoria of crazed bliss, his seed spilling out onto the pelts. It was the strangled cry of his name that pushed Guy over the edge, his teeth sinking into the flesh of Allan's shoulder as he groaned deeply and with a few last sporadic thrusts emptied his seed in violent spurts, the undeniable proof of his pleasures, into the younger man.

Both men collapsed onto the bed, panting hard, sticky with their combined release. Had Allan been a woman, Guy would have rolled off of him, but as it were he stayed resting his full weight atop him, still buried deep in his body. Allan didn't mind the unchecked weight resting on top of him; in fact he reveled in it. Never before had he reached such a mind blowing orgasm and lord help him he was already craving another despite the protests of his spent and used body. Had he a clue that the power of a man fucking him from behind could be so earth shattering, he would have jumped into a man's bed long ago with little reservation – wouldn't even require payment for it.

When both of their hearts had settled, Guy finally rolled off of him, lacing an arm over his eyes and licking his lips, breathing deeply as the chill of the night air cooled his overheated body. Allan adjusted his position, deciding to stay on his stomach, but maneuvering so he could look at his master, who looked completely satisfied and languid. The fury that had earlier haunted his features gave way to contentment.

Allan tentatively reached out one hand, his fingers ghosting over Guy's ribs. He heard the other man's breath catch in his throat, his sensitive skin reacting to the light touch. It delighted Allan to get such a reaction out of the man, and he hoped it wouldn't be the first and only time he could garner pleasure from the Master at Arms. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being fancied to a man, but now that he had a taste he wanted more. He could only hope Guy felt the same wild abandon. This was a whole new meaning of consorting with the enemy.

"You breathe a word of this to anyone…" Guy threatened, the harsh tone back in his voice with the thought of anyone finding out about this little encounter. The sheriff would have a field day for months if it were to ever get out that Guy bedded another man, much less enjoyed it.

"Hey!" Allan said defensively, resting his palm against Guy's bicep "Not being funny 'bout it, but this is our secret now, you're not the only one with a reputation here." he said, feeling a bit wounded at the anticipated threat coming so soon after their shared bliss.

"I have the only reputation here that matters," Guy grunted, but his harsh tone was gone, left instead with a lackluster sleepy one.

"Of course _master_." Allan behooved his hurt pride not to shine through in his vulnerability.

Guy lifted his arm out of curiosity and quirked one eyebrow at his servant, the man was already pushing himself up off the bed and working to gather his clothes up off the ground – with the exuberance of a kicked puppy. He let out a heavy sigh and pushed himself up into a seated position, one leg hanging lazily off the side as the other stretched out over the straw filled mattress.

"Come here." Guy ordered softly, watching as Allan stiffened and paused in his motions, his pants already halfway up his thighs. With a quick jump he pulled them up all the way and half heartedly laced them, turning and walking towards his lord, blushing like a woman at his unashamed displayed nakedness. "Sit down." Guy ordered, motioning to his spread legs, smirking at the way Allan looked away embarrassed for a moment before doing as told, the bed dipping under his weight.

Guy reached out and gripped the back of Allan's neck, pulling him against his chest and hungrily seeking out his lips for a searing kiss that seemed more like the man was claiming him with its intensity, it was one which Allan returned with equal fervor, his open palm resting against his sire's bare chest. He could already feel the familiar stirring's of arousal at the contact. When Guy pulled away both of them were slightly breathless again, eye's dilated in passion, Guy gripped Allan's bicep tightly, holding him close to his body.

"I don't have a lot of pleasures inside these castle walls," Guy admitted, his tone dark and bitter. "I like to keep the far and few between ones I find." He whispered, his gaze boring into Allan's with unspoken emotions he wasn't willing to share. "Perhaps new rules are in order," he mused, running his hand up and down the younger man's arm, grazing his fingers over the already bruising mark of his bite, his eyes greedily soaking in his half-dressed form and thinking already of burying himself deep within his tight body again. "Whilst sharing my bed, I am not your lord and you are not my squire, we can be each other's secret and pleasure," he said huskily, his grey eyes already darkening with the hints of renewed desire. "But so help me Allan, if this gets out, you will wish for the swift merciful death of a hanging that will never come." He added darkly.

Allan mulled over his words for a moment, "Perhaps I can go along with this new rule, I guess it was rather pleasurable…." He admitted playfully, chuckling at the way Guy practically growled at him and flipped him onto the bed on his back again; already back on top of him.

"Perhaps you need a reminder of just how pleasurable boy," he leered at the man below him, his voice already husky again as his hand smoothing down Allan's ribcage, teasingly dipping under the hem of his britches he had only moments ago shrugged back on. His lips coming down to tease one nipple, his tongue flicking over the small pert bead that perked at his touch.

"I think you might be right," Allan breathed, his hand finding his way into Guy's hair, tangling around the dark locks. "Need to be sure though before I agree to any new terms in servitude, you understand…" He gasped at the feel of Guy biting down on his skin, not enough to break the skin but enough to cause him to tense in brief pain.

"Oh, I think you will agree." Guy huffed out arrogantly.

"I think so too." Allan agreed, moaning at the way Guy's lips and teeth moved over his body, arousing him all over again.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

**There you have it, please remember to comment/kudos if you liked it ;)**

  
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